


Looking for a Friend...

by Mayonayys



Series: Two Elves Walk Into A Bar [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Demons, Female Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mind Manipulation, Original Character-centric, Pure OC Backstory, Really this is just character building, Saved by Friend, Unpleasant memories, no canon characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayonayys/pseuds/Mayonayys
Summary: They were separated, Miralha can't find her. But she finds someone. A friend. Long lost, long gone... Its too good to be true, but its here in front of her.Prompt fill for my Discord, "Please Stay."T for mentions of blood, the mildest of swearing, and a maybe a little bit of triggering confusion/mind games.





	Looking for a Friend...

**Author's Note:**

> As the last tag says, I'm just character and world building with these works. Have a peak into one of the many traumatic events that take place in Miralha's life before the conclave, and before our actual story will begin!  
> Hope you all like it, constructive criticism is very welcome.  
> Also, I'm very sorry for my butchering of languages! There are not so, so many resources on how to construct Elvhen sentences, and I'm just trying my best, haha.
> 
> Once again, Miralha is my OC, and Pelvera belongs to KertBert.  
> KertBert also helped to me to edit this work.
> 
> Glossary is in the end notes.
> 
> Edited August 8, 2019 to fix some mistakes + change the title!

It had been a year. A year since Miralha had been around a large group of Dalish. A year since she had seen the most horrific thing in her life. A year since her clan was slaughtered.

After the few of them that were left performed death rites for their slain clan mates, the group dispersed. Miralha and Pelvera had been traveling ever since, never staying in one place too long, and never getting too attached.

It had been a year… And Miralha still mourned every day for her family. But she had Pel and that’s all that mattered anymore. Pel was her rock and she was Pel’s. 

Miralha had lived a while, much longer than many others she had known, simply because life was hard. Even with their Elvhen blood increasing their life-span, Miralha knew of so many that did not live past forty years of age. 

Without Pelvera by her side, she wouldn’t have lived this past year, she was sure. Whether it had been death by a group of bandits or by the dagger she now wielded, it was certain.

Miralha huffed out a heavy breath, trying her best to control her breathing. Blood soaked her right pant leg and she was sure to shift her weight onto her left foot, otherwise she’d collapse from the injury.

Before her were a group of Dalish hunters, bows drawn, and aimed straight at her. She had dropped her own when one of their arrows skimmed her right hand, her drawing hand, and she could no longer pull the string. It would heal, likely with no weakness in the hand, if she survived the encounter. 

Now, they all stood still, their eyes cold and calculated, trained on her. While she just tried to control her breathing.

One of them dropped their bow, likely the hunt leader, she could tell his age and wisdom by his greyed locks and fine wrinkles.

“ _ Alin, _ what’s your business?” The elder man spoke, no aggression in his voice, despite the onslaught of arrows they had loosened at her just moments before.

Miralha was never one to hold her tongue, but now was not the time if she wished to live… To live and see Pelvera again.

“I’m seeking a friend,  _ ha'hren, _ ” while the term respectful in nature, her tone said otherwise. 

The elder stared at her for another moment longer, eyes looking over her, judging.

“Your  _ Vallaslin… _ ” He took another step closer, Miralha attempted to adjust her position, but grimaced as pain shot up her leg. “I’ve not seen  _ Elgar'nan _ represented so simply in a long time.” He let out a small chuckle, “A friend indeed is what you seek… What you have sought for a while now, no?”

Miralha felt chills run over her, recognizing her mark must mean that he had known some of her clan. She had only met a few people with her exact vallaslin, and they had all been in her small clan.

He made a gesture to his group and they lowered their bows, but eyes stayed trained on her. “You have found a friend.” He smiled to her.

Miralha felt uneasy. There was something about this man she couldn’t quite name, he was not quite right… But, she had been looking for a friend for a while. She furrowed her brow, a friend… Her head felt momentarily foggy, but she stood up straighter, her dagger wielding hand falling to her side. She grimaced again as she put more weight on her injured leg, but the elder moved to her side. “A misunderstanding,” He spoke, letting her lean his weight on him, “Our healer will have you patched up quickly.”

She nodded, letting herself lean to him, letting out a sigh. When she put her hand on his arm, he felt cold, but then again, it was a cold afternoon.

“Your clan, they’ve been in this area for a long time?” Miralha asked as the elder lead her limping back to their camp.

He let out a hum, “ _ Ame surem ir mana…  _ So long ago. _ ” _ He smiled down at her.

She simply nodded, keeping her focus on her footing. 

The rest of their small treck was quiet, the kind of quiet that made Miralha’s ears buzz. It was strange that she heard no rustling wind or wildlife. Then again, it hadn’t been particularly windy, and she could see the flickering lights of a camp, which tended to scare away animals.

“The clan will be so happy to bring in one of the Dashanthra.” He spoke, keeping his eyes forward, “It has been so long since we heard the news,  _ Ar ame ir abelas.” _

Miralha nodded, “Sorrow isn’t needed now. I have found a friend…” A weak smile graced her lips, the words didn’t feel quite right. Yes, she was looking for a friend, but was this it? She wasn’t sure any more.

The tree line broke, a peaceful camp stood before them. Several tents, a few campfires, a pot of stew sat above above one, and Miralha could smell the savory scent. It looked like home… But there was no clan in sight. No hustle and bustle of a clan preparing for the night, just the signs that they were there just moments before.

“Hm, strange…” the elder paused, he looked as if he were pondering over something when Miralha looked up to him. “Ah, that’s right, they must have gone to look at the  _ lea’vune miol. _ No worries, however, I can patch this up myself, for now.”

“ _ Lea’vune miol…”  _ Miralha smiled, she had fond memories of going and watching the little glowing bugs with her friends.

The elder began to lead her again, towards an open tent, a medical tent, she presumed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Miralha thought she saw one of the small bugs flicker. A feeling of nostalgia washed over her. Cool nights, the keeper let her and the other young ones forgo their duties the few nights the  _ lea’vune miol _ would be flickering in the nearby field, looking for mates.

The last time, it was just her and a single friend. The memory grew fuzzy, she couldn’t remember the friend, but she felt they were dear to her, that she missed them.

Miralha inhaled deeply as the elder lowered her to one of the many blankets that were lain out. Her vision blurred a little as she hissed with pain, but finally she rest on the plush, woven blankets. 

When Miralha looked back up at the elder, his face now lit with by a flickering candle, he looked familiar. She squinted, a name was at the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t recall.

His smile was warm as he began to gather supplies to patch up her leg. “It's nice to find another from Dashanthra, finally. I’ve missed you, Miralha. I missed all of you.”

Miralha felt her heart rate quicken, if only momentarily, “Fenlan? Is that…” The name flowed off her tongue with ease now. “But you,” she tried to remember that night, the night they held the death rites. So many dead, so many bodies, she swore… “Is this where you have been? All this time?”

Fenlan smiled, “I have been here, yes…” The smile, it did not seem quite like Fenlan, but it had been a while, a year. Things change.

He knelt beside Miralha, rolling up her pant leg and beginning to clean the wound. Despite this, she didn’t feel the need to wince in pain as she stared at his face. He seemed less wrinkled, less grey. Her memory of her clan was now foggy.

Miralha’s brow furrowed as she watched him clean the wound, her eyes on his hands. “Your hand,” she reached out to touch it, but pulled her own hand back, a chill running down her spine.

Suddenly her chest felt tight, she looked at his face, then back to the hands that tended to her leg wound. It was there now. 

The burn Fenlan had received on the day she was getting her vallaslin. She had flinched as the keeper began the painful tattooing on her face, jerking herself back and knocking a torch over. A panicked Fenlan moved to catch the torch, to protect her. 

He didn’t cry out when the magical flame burned his skin, fast and deep. He simply bowed his head, re-placing the torch, and waiting until the ritual was over before he left. 

Miralha cried afterwards, not because of the pain from her vallaslin, but because he had been hurt in the process. Her weakness caused her closest mentor to be in such pain. Fenlan comforted her. He was kind, understanding, and reminded her that she was not weak, that she was strong of heart, which is all he had ever hoped for.

She gulped as she looked back up to him. His eyes lay on her, they weren’t quite right.

“All better.” He smiled, it wasn’t right. “Miralha,” he placed his hand over one of her own, it was cold. “You will stay with us?” His voice, it wasn’t right. “Please stay.”

Miralha felt as if she couldn’t breath, the cold from his hand seemed to envelop her, running up her arms, her shoulders, her neck, down into her chest…

She blinked, the next thing she heard was a deep whistling, a familiar chirp. The cold subsided, but she felt a breeze on the back of her neck. 

A few more blinks and her eyes adjusted in the dark.

“Miralha.” A soft, panicked voice approached.

Pelvera. A friend. Who she had been looking for.

“Pel,” Miralha felt her voice catch as she looked around. She sat in a patch of lush grass, still in the dense of the forest. There were no tents, no camp, no sign of a clan.

She peered to her left. On the ground a form lay, motionless, charred.

Pelvera’s warmth enveloped her as the younger woman fell to her knees and hugged her. Miralha wrapped her arms around Pel, burying her face in her shoulder. She could feel her tears on her own face now. She wasn’t sure when they started.

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary:
> 
> •alin n. other, stranger, person  
> •ha'hren n. old respected person, wise person, elder, teacher  
> •Vallaslin, sometimes referred to as blood writing, is what the Dalish call the intricate facial tattoos worn by all adult clan members.  
> •Elgar’nan, Spirit of Vengeance, Dalish God  
> •Ame surem ir mana, “I arrived [in the] very distant past.” This is a phrase of my creation! I'm so sorry if this is wildly wrong!  
> •Ar ame ir abelas, “I have great sorrow.”  
> •lea’vune miol, “moon light insect” I don’t recall an actual phrase ever used for fire flies, but this seemed a fitting one.
> 
> Others:
> 
> •Dashanthra, the name of Miralha and Pelvera’s clan  
> •Fenlan, the clans hearthmaster and Miralha’s mentor
> 
>  
> 
> Resources:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/series/229061  
> Dragon Age Wiki


End file.
